


Trois March

by Nyanoka



Series: Dove Descending [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Animal Play, BDSM, Begging, Breeding Kink, Canon ages, Changing Tenses, Consensual Misgendering, Consensual Non-Consent, Consensual Sex, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Danger Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Double Vaginal Penetration, Established Relationship, Forced Feminization, Genderplay, Humiliation, M/M, Mild Lactation Kink, Misgendering, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Overstimulation, Painplay, Pregnancy Kink, Rape Roleplay, Rimming, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Squirting, Threesome - M/M/M, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, erotic asphyxiation, rapeplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25613308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyanoka/pseuds/Nyanoka
Summary: Victor bites off more than he can chew tonight.
Relationships: Dande | Leon/Masaru | Victor, Dande | Leon/Masaru | Victor/Nezu | Piers, Dande | Leon/Nezu | Piers, Masaru | Victor/Nezu | Piers
Series: Dove Descending [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974847
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	Trois March

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider my warnings. "Choose not to Warn" is in effect alongside the other tags. (´・ω・｀) This is a Rape roleplay fic and not a fic dealing with "true" non-consent if that is a deal-breaker. If one is sensitive to misgendering, please consider that as well. I decided to go with "Yuuri" since it keeps it separate from Gloria if I ever get to use her in a fic + it's Gloria's JP name anyhow. Though if one wants to be technical, it's actually "Yūri," but I prefer the look of "Yuuri" so...
> 
> I actually don't consider this "dark" or "hardcore" enough for "Dead Dove: Do not Eat" tbh, but I decided to keep it since the subject matter can be potentially triggering.

A thick finger forces itself into Victor’s mouth, nail scraping roughly against the skin and halting yet another plea to stop, scream further muffled as a second finger enters, digit pressing against his tongue briefly before pushing nearly into the back of his throat. He almost wants to vomit—he can already feel spit dribbling from the corners of his mouth because of the intrusion—but he doesn’t.

He doesn’t think either Piers or Leon would like it all too much, and he doesn’t want to be hurt or nearly smothered with a pillow again. He could already feel the bruising forming on his back and chest and the ache in his left shoulder, a consequence of Piers wrenching him face-first onto the bed earlier.

* * *

Piers isn’t particularly muscular, more lean muscle than anything else, but Victor isn’t especially heavy either—too young and too small, even for his age, to do anything against a fully grown adult. Thus, it had been easy enough for Piers to press his head into the pillow, nails digging roughly into his scalp and grip tightening painfully.

“Don’t struggle.”

Piers hadn’t waited for an answer then, not that Victor could speak as he was, before forcing his face further into the pillow. He remembers panicking, nails scrambling for purchase in the soft sheets, as his chest had tightened—air leaving swiftly, paradoxically slow, mind dizzy with flashes of white interspersing into his vision, and voice near-noiseless in its scream, muffled by both the cotton cover and the forming lump in his throat, saliva and instinctual panic intermingling.

He hadn’t wanted to die then even has his limbs had begun to still, blackness nearly overtaking his vision. He remembers the uncomfortable dizziness even when Piers had tugged his head upward at the last moment before unconsciousness, hair nearly ripped from its roots, as how his eyes had watered and his chest had heaved afterwards, thin chest rising and falling with each gulp of air.

Painful and certainly not helped by the way Piers’s knee presses onto his back afterwards with just enough force to push him back downward, taking his breath away once more, and for his eyes to water further.

Victor almost hadn’t noticed the door clicking open then, but he remembers how his heart had leapt into his chest, hopeful.

Leon. With the suddenness of everything, he forgotten about Leon. He had opened his mouth then to call for help, but Piers speaks before he can, pushing his face back downward into the pillow, nearly suffocating.

“Can you hurry up?” The weight on his back increases—shin digging painfully and bruising—and forcing his face further into the pillow. “We need to finish before your parents come back.”

His heart almost drops at that—Leon wouldn’t, he’s met Leon before, and he’s always been kind to him—and it drops entirely when he hears the door close, lock clicking into place, and Leon’s footsteps, too slow; too heavy; and too leisurely for the occasion.

He hears the bedsprings creak and feels a weight settle next to him before a hand, palm larger than Piers’s, comes to rest upon his neck, fingers caressing gently at the nape and underneath the collar of his button-up shirt. Victor shivers at the touch, trembling only increasing when he feels Piers lift his knee off his back.

He wants to run naturally. He knows the layout of Leon’s house well enough from the years he’s spent messing around with Hop—from the corridors to the hidden alcoves and even to Leon’s room itself. He remembers the years that he spent messing around with the books, always the more easily reachable ones on the lower shelves, and with Leon’s hat collection, trying on one after another with a similarly tittering Hop.

He wants to run, but he doesn’t, not with the hand currently on his neck and the fingers in his hair. As he is now, it would be all too easy to hurt him, pillow smothering or perhaps fingers wrapping around his neck and suffocating until he blacked out.

He hadn’t expected it, but he hadn’t expected any of this. He _shouldn’t have to_ expect any of this.

They’re nice. They’re _supposed_ to be nice. He’s seen how Leon treats Hop and how Piers treats Marnie. They’re both soft, lenient and overly doting even. They shouldn’t be treating him like they are now—rough and uncharacteristic and hurting—or touching him as they are now, fingers pushing slightly pass the waistband of his jeans to grope at ass, hand squeezing tightly at the round flesh, and nails dragging lightly upon his neck, caress cold despite the warmth of them.

He has heard enough warnings about strangers from his mother—warnings about dark alleyways, overly kind strangers, and so forth. He’s heard them numerous times, tuned her out her repetitive warnings multiple times.

But still, Piers and Leon aren’t strangers. They aren’t the people his mother frequently warns him about. They’re nice, _supposed_ to be nice.

He hadn’t expected any of this, but why would he? He knows them both, and it had been a simple invitation for dinner from Leon—an invitation to pass time while his mother and Leon’s own parents are away for their own dinner and for a foray into Wedgehurst’s downtown area. He hadn’t wanted to spend the night alone in an empty house. He has his Pokémon of course, but still, he hadn’t seen any reason to decline, not when he knows them, admires them even.

He wishes he hadn’t left them on the dining room table, but he hadn’t seen the harm in letting Leon see them, not when he had offered to feed them as well. He hadn’t seen the harm in following Piers to Leon’s room without them.

Stupid, stupid, stupid—but how would he have known?

Even when Piers’s fingers leave his hair alongside the hand on his ass and when Leon hoists him by the collar onto his lap—hand also wrapping easily around his thin wrists—his trembling doesn’t stop. Instead, it only increases when he feels a clothed bulge press against his ass, grinding against it, and as Piers moves to tower over him, pinning Victor between him and Leon.

“Look at me.” Victor feels Piers’s fingers press into cheek, palm cupping his chin, and urging him to turn his face—nails digging harder into the flesh with each passing second.

He doesn’t want to look at him. His eyes are too blue—too pretty in both shape and color and only accentuated by the long dark lashes. They’re too pretty, too nice, to look at, especially with how his hair, loose and untied, frames them. He doesn’t want to see them as they are now, dark and predatory and _hungry_ , but it hurts. It hurts too much with how his nails dig in and how his other hand presses forcibly against his crotch, rubbing at his clit and pussy lips through the denim. Shamefully, he realizes how wet he is, girlcum drenching his panties.

‘Good girl,” Piers says when he complies, and Victor flinches, a consequence of both his words and Leon’s actions, grip having tightened on his wrists and free hand roughly pushing underneath his shirt, fabric stretching and buttons popping because of his impatience.

“I-I’m not a girl,” Victor says. He couldn’t quite help himself even he feels Piers’s nails dig further into his skin, not enough to draw blood but enough to imprint crescents onto the flesh.

“You are,” Leon replies this time, and a noise leaves Victor when he feels fingers, thumb and index, pinch his left nipple before tugging. “You don’t have a cock”—another push against his ass, clothed erection rubbing against his entrance, and another tug upon his nipple, sensitive flesh reddening further, and Victor feels another involuntary noise leave his mouth—“and look how sensitive you are here! Men don’t like getting their breasts played with this much. You’re already leaking.”

Victor feels Leon’s fingers move from his nipple before his hand cups the tit, calloused palm squeezing and fondling the round flesh harshly.

“You’re going to need a bra soon.” Leon squeezes again, and Victor feels his breath leave him. “You started menstruating last month, and you’re already so big. A few more years, and they’ll be more like udders than breasts.”

He continues, “You need to be more careful about that by the way. I found one of your used pads in the trashcan. What if Hop had found it?”

Victor flushes at his words though he couldn’t turn to face him, not with Piers’s hand still on his face. “I’m still”—another noise leaves him when he feels a particularly rough stroke against his crotch, panties wetting further—“n-not a girl.”

“You are,” Piers says before leaning in closer, breath warming Victor’s lips. He couldn’t quite move, not with Piers’s hand still on his face and with the way he’s pinned between them, small body pressed in-between. “You’re cuter as one too. Why don’t you grow out your hair again, Yuuri?”

“I”—he feels tears prickle at the corner of his eyes—“That’s not my name.”

Victor feels Piers’s grip on his chin loosen before his hand slides to the side of his neck, nails tapping lightly at the nape before his grip tightens once more, not enough to disrupt Victor’s breathing but enough for him to tense.

“Then do you want to be our little girl tonight? You can call both of us daddy.” Victor doesn’t reply, not until he feels Leon pinch at his right nipple and pull, skin reddening with each tug and twist and now equally puffy as its twin, and Piers’s fingers push against his clothed pussy, denim rubbing roughly against tender flesh with each motion. “This’ll be over sooner if you do.”

He doesn’t want to, but he feels Piers’s grip on his neck tighten slightly.

“Okay,” Victor says before wincing as Piers’s grip tightens a bit more. “O-okay, daddy.”

He feels his face flush more, burning, when the word leaves his mouth and when he feels himself wetting further, girlcum soaking through the silky fabric.

“Good girl,” he says before Victor feels a tongue prod at lips, more for show than for permission. “You deserve a reward. Doesn’t she?”

“Mm-hmm, she does.” Leon’s hand leaves his wrists, but Victor doesn’t move, not with Piers’s hand still wrapped around his throat and their close proximity. Certainly, he could struggle, but what use would everything be afterward if he, in an unlikely scenario, were to break free? They’re both much larger and quicker than him, and he couldn’t do much after, especially with the lock on the door. It isn’t that he couldn’t unlock it—it is a simple knob lock—but it would take time, a consequence of panic and his own fumbling.

He doesn’t want to risk a greater punishment. He remembers how small his wrists had felt in Leon’s hand and the slight pressure of his grip.

Leon’s hands move to press at the underside of his tits, fingers massaging the soft flesh with fingertips poking at the protruding dark nubs and occasional twisting them between his index and thumb, as Piers presses his lips to Victor’s, mouth muttering a simple “Don’t bite,” words accompanied by another slight squeeze of the hand upon his neck, a warning. His other hand slides upward to undo Victor’s belt and the buttons of his jeans, slender fingers soon slipping into panties to play with his engorged clit and labia, digits occasionally pushing inward into his wet, sopping pussy.

He doesn’t particularly want to open his mouth, but he couldn’t help it, not when Piers bites downward on his bottom lip, teeth nipping with just enough force to draw blood and a yelp and tongue soon pushing into his mouth and coaxing yet another unwanted noise.

It’s embarrassing, revolting, how much he reacts, how much he wants to push downward against Piers’s fingers and how noisy he is—high and girly and muffled—with body squirming upon Leon’s lap, ass rubbing against his erection.

He shouldn’t be as aroused as he is by everything, and he knows it. They know it, and it makes him flush further—shame and arousal mixing.

“Our little girl is already so wet, and we haven’t even bred you yet,” Piers says as he withdraws with another nip, fingers still playing with Victor’s pussy, clit held and rubbed between his index and middle. Victor feels Leon’s hand catch his wrists once again as he twists, alarm seeping in because of Piers’s words.

“Don’t you want to be bred, fucked until you’re pregnant?” A particularly harsh tug comes upon his clit, drawing a pained moan. Idly, Victor feels a weight lift from his neck, sliding down to grope at his tit, the one left unattended to by Leon’s hand. “You’re already so wet, and look how excited you are! Such a dirty slut, but it’s fine. You’re our little girl after all.”

Leon squeezes Victor’s tit again. “You’d look good pregnant, and we’d wouldn’t mind taking care of you—fucking and milking you until you cum again over and over.” Another gasp leaves Victor as he feels Leon twist his nipple, skin reddening further and now painfully sensitive. “Don’t you think it’d be nice? With the size of your udders and teats, you’re already close enough to being a cow. You’re just missing the bell collar and milk, but we can fix that soon enough. We could even pierce your nipples too and give you a tag if you want. Two even—one for each of our Trainer IDs. We wouldn’t want anyone stealing our property.”

Victor feels Leon lean forward, dark hair tickling his skin and beard scratchy, before Leon presses a kiss against his cheek, deceptively soft, and moves his mouth down to the side of Victor’s neck, teeth then biting down and tongue licking at the flesh as he begins to suck. Faintly, he smells a hint of apple, Leon’s shampoo and starkly contrasting with the hint of smoke that is Piers’s scent, and he feels tears well up in his eyes again. It, the shampoo, had been a gift from him last week, carefully picked out after Hop had mentioned how often his brother ran out of shampoo, a consequence of the length of his hair.

They’re nice. They’re supposed to be nice. They aren’t supposed to treat him like this.

Victor shakes his head. “N-no.”

“No?” Victor shudders when he feels Piers’s fingers once again plunge into his pussy, digits going up to the knuckles and spreading and palm rubbing small, hard circles against his clit. “But you’ve already got the moo down.”

He isn’t quite sure of Piers’s meaning, not until his fingers curl and press against his walls, drawing a high-pitched scream.

“See?” Piers continues his ministrations, fingertips rubbing against his G-spot. “You’re already so good at it, but we wouldn’t expect any less from our little girl, our little cow and whore. You’ve always been a quick learner.”

He couldn’t help himself—not with the fingers in his pussy, not with the hand massaging his breasts, the tongue and teeth on his neck, and not with the cock rubbing against his ass, eager and even. He finds himself squirting, white fluid drenching Piers’s hand and soaking his panties and pants further before dripping downward to wet his asshole.

“But still”—Piers withdraws his fingers from Victor’s pants, pinching his clit roughly between his nails on the way out and drawing another noise—“you’re so messy, pissin’ on my hand like this! Do you still need a diaper at your age?” Victor’s face reddens further. “Little girls shouldn’t be messy for their daddies, but don’t worry, I’ll clean you up.”

Victor feels Piers’s lift him slightly, hand gripping at his ankle, before he pulls his pants down, revealing white panties, silk fabric and lace trimming thoroughly drenched.

A finger slides into panties, pulling at the waistband before snapping it back into place. “Were you already expectin’ somethin’ though? Wearin’ these? There’s even a bow on them. Such a naughty girl.”

A hand settles on his thigh, fingers once again slipping into the waistband but now pulling downward to reveal a nearly hairless pussy, before another noise leaves Victor as Piers lowers his head, tongue soon licking at a swollen, abused clit and then plunging into a wet vagina.

It isn’t quite like his fingers—he doesn’t want any of this really—but Victor finds himself writhing despite his own wishes, especially when fingers, wet with his own pussy juice and ejaculation, prod at his asshole before quickly pushing in, hole easily engulfing them.

“S-stop, daddy, p-please.” Victor couldn’t quite help his stutter even when Leon lifts his mouth from his neck to speak, voice soft and smooth.

“Is that what you really want?” Another moan leaves him as Piers’s fingers probe deeper, stretching and coating his walls further in his own fluids. “You’re so receptive though—so cute and obedient. Almost makes us want to fuck you on livestream. Wouldn’t you like that? Our little girl and Galar’s Champion fucked and bred into a needy, whining, and pregnant mess only hungry for our cocks while everyone watches. I’m sure you’d be popular. You’re already very popular with us.”

Even when Victor feels himself wetting further, nearly squirting again—he’s sure Piers notices by the way his nails dig into his thigh and by the way his tongue pushes in deeper, licking at his walls—he only protests, body shuddering. “Y-yes. I mean, n-no. Just stop. P-please, daddy.”

Another pinch on his nipple, swollen flesh rolled in-between trimmed nails. “We haven’t even fucked you yet though. You’re already so excited—such a waste—and wouldn’t your mother want grandkids? Or would she be disappointed in her little girl whoring herself out? Already pregnant at such a young age?”

Victor doesn’t reply. He doesn’t trust himself to reply. He, toes curling, only shudders once more, panting and voice near-incoherent as Piers’s fingers leave his ass—digits soon replaced by his tongue—before moving once again to play with his clit and folds, fingers occasionally pushing in to rub at his vaginal walls.

Though, Leon doesn’t mind. He only continues, voice gentle and hand leaving Victor’s breast before moving to stroke at his hair. “Don’t worry. We’d take care of you then. You’re our little girl after all.”

Another noise and another shudder before Victor finds himself involuntarily squirting again, muscles contracting around Piers’s fingers and white fluid dirtying his hand, hair, and face. Though, Piers doesn’t seem to mind all too much, tongue still pushing eagerly into Victor’s asshole—spit intermingling with Victor’s fluids as nails dig into a soft thigh, five purplish crescents forming, and fingers rub and pull at his abused clit, girlcum leaking profusely and wetting both the sheets and Piers’s hand.

Leon strokes his hair once more, fingers combing through sweaty, brown strands. “Really, we wouldn’t mind. You wouldn’t even have to work. You could even just stay home and wait for us. Wouldn’t you like that? Staying home and touching yourself, belly gravid and growing and ass plugged up with a vibrator, until your daddies come home and fuck you again? Suck on your sagging teats and milk you until your next pregnancy? You’d be such a good mother, such a good broodwhore and always our little girl no matter what.”

Victor shakes his head, opens his mouth for another scream—he isn’t sure whether it’s solely because of a want for them to stop or aided by the way Piers’s fingers press against his G-spot again, provoking yet another spasm, pussy clenching in an orgasm and squirting—but thick fingers, Leon’s, soon force themselves into his mouth, nails scratching lips and tongue and pushing to the back of his throat. He wants to vomit—bite down—but he doesn’t, not when he feels Leon’s grip on his wrists tighten slightly.

It would be easy enough for Leon to injure him, dislocate his wrists or perhaps something worse. His shoulder aches, and he already feels bruising forming upon his back—pains accentuated by the way his back rubs against Leon’s chest with each motion.

He doesn’t want to be hit or suffocated to the point of unconsciousness.

He feels Piers’s nails drag upon his inner thigh, tips brushing against his skin, and another pinch upon his clit, tugging evenly, before Piers withdraws, sleeve wiping his face and hands then wiping themselves on Victor’s stomach before going to undo his belt and pants, motion revealing an already erect cock.

Even when Victor squirms, words mumbled and spit dribbling onto his collarbone and motions increasing in desperation, they don’t stop. Instead, he only feels the head and length of Piers’s cock rub against his pussy and the heat of Leon’s body as he’s drawn closer, back meeting chest and stomach.

When Leon removes his fingers from his mouth to undo his own pants, Victor is frantic, voice cracking in its pleas and tears streaming down his face. Though, it doesn’t stop either of them. He only feels Leon’s cock, now freed from its confines, push against his ass, not quite entering yet, and Piers’s hands on his breasts, fondling and squeezing the soft flesh as his fingers occasionally flick at the swollen nubs.

“S-stop”—he couldn’t help his stutter, not with sensations on his body, wholly unwanted yet shamefully pleasurable—“Please stop, Pi-daddy, pl-please. I don’t w-want to be preg—“

A noise leaves him, high and whining and pained, when Piers pushes in, sheathing himself entirely in one swift, even motion as his grip tightens upon Victor’s boobs. Panting and with tears and spit staining his face and dripping down his chin, Victor feels Leon once again grind his cock at his ass’s opening, bulbous tip teasing his wet hole as it pushes against it, still not quite entering.

Again, Victor feels Leon’s hand in his hair, spit-covered digits combing through the strands once more.

“Don’t worry.” Leon’s voice is smooth, gentle and even as always. “You’ll be begging us to fuck you soon. Promise. Daddies always know their little girls best.”

Leon strokes his hair, and Victor finds himself screaming again, nails digging into his palms, as Leon thrusts into his ass, motion slower than but no less even than Piers’s and balls now pressed against flesh.

It hurts—he’s too full, and looking downward, he can already see his stomach bulge slightly from their cocks—but that doesn’t stop them even as he makes another half-mumbled, half-moaned and near-entirely incoherent plea for them to stop and pull out.

Their motions aren’t quite coordinated—Leon’s thrusts, despite his initial thrust, are quicker—but Victor finds himself orgasming and clenching around them anyway, fluid seeping from his ass and and pussy squirting onto and around their still thrusting and warm cocks.

He’s noisy, breathless and moaning, even when Piers speaks, voice teasing.

“You’re so good at this”—another noise leaves him as Piers pinches his nipple again—“look at how excited your body is too! Milking our cocks like this. Such a dirty girl. So eager for your daddies’ cum and for your womb to be filled.”

“N-no!” He couldn’t quite form complete sentences at this point. “I d-don’t…just s-stop. P-please.”

A particularly harsh thrust into his ass draws another yelp—cock stretching his hole—as Piers’s rubs against the inside of his pussy, actions painful and relatively slow, before withdrawing and thrusting in again, motion distending his belly once more and causing him to leak further.

“You’re so eager though,” Leon says, and Victor feels another thrust into his ass, equally rough as the last. “Your holes are already molded around our cocks too. Such a good girl! Are you sure you don’t want this? You don’t need to lie to us.”

Leon thrusts again, rubbing the tip of his cock against Victor’s insides and causing him to squirm once more—both desperate to escape yet wanting to impale himself further on their lengths.

“Little girls are supposed to be greedy. You don’t need to be shy about it.”

Victor doesn’t reply, noisy as he is and voice loud and nearly hoarse from screaming. He only shakes his head.

“Really, don’t lie about it. It’s not good to lie.” Another thrust into his pussy and Victor feels himself clench once more around their cocks though he doesn’t squirt this time. “You’re already so loose back here too, taking my entire cock like a whore.” Leon tugs lightly on Victor’s hair as Piers’s pace slows to a near-halt, cock still buried in Victor. “You could probably take both of us. You’re such a good girl after all, so eager for your daddies’ attention and cocks—so eager to be bred and become a mommy. You wouldn’t care at all if you don’t know who the father is either, right? You just want to bred like the slutty cow you are.”

Victor isn’t quite sure of what Leon means—they’re already both in him—until he feels Leon's cock withdraw and press against his pussy, rubbing against the sensitive flesh and causing him, much to his shame, to wet further.

“I-it won’t fit.” High-pitched and stuttering, but Victor couldn’t particularly help, not with the ministrations on his chest and the cock pressed at his opening, length slowly inching inward. “S-stop, it hurts! D-daddy, please!”

Leon doesn’t reply outside of a small hum, and Victor feels his hand leave his hair, briefly pausing to wipe away some of his tears, before it moves to his cock to help guide it in.

He’s full, entirely too full and stomach overly distended, when Leon bottoms out with a noisy squelch, flesh meeting flesh and sound intermingling with his own noises and their grunting as they adjust. When Piers moves first, length rubbing against both his walls and Leon’s cock, and with Leon soon following, Victor finds himself screaming again, voice cracking.

“Such a good slut. Such a good girl.” One of Piers’s hands comes to rest on his head, fingers combing through his hair much like Leon’s had before. “You’ve been so good for you daddies. Just a bit more and you’ll get your reward soon enough.”

Victor isn’t quite coherent. They’re too big, cocks sliding in too slowly, too quickly, in a haphazard and rough pace—each thrust grazing against his G-spot and pushing against his womb in an odd mix of pleasure and pain.

Too quick, too slow, and sensations not at all helped when Piers leans forwards and takes one of his nipples in his mouth, tongue swirling around the puffy nub and teeth nipping lightly as his hand moves to cup underneath the breast, pushing it upward and fingers massaging the flesh. He’s noisy, pleas nearly incoherent amidst his own moans and panting and theirs.

Thus, he’s not quite sure why they stop, pace stilling haphazardly but both still buried in him. It’s painful, unpleasant to stay as they are, and Victor isn’t quite sure of what they want, not until Leon speaks, breath tickling his ear and calloused hand coming to rest on his distended, wet stomach, fingertips rubbing small circles into the skin and palm occasionally stroking along the bump.

“Good girls should be polite”—Victor feels a whine leave his throat when Leon once again pushes upward, tip grinding against his womb—“ask for it.”

A second cock, Piers’s, pushes at his womb, rubbing lightly before stilling, and Victor finds himself screaming again, pussy stretched yet still clenching messily around their cocks, juices leaking downward.

“Pl-please fu—“ Another moan leaves him as he feels another push against his womb, teasing. He isn’t sure of whether it’s Piers’s or Leon’s. “Please fuck me!”

“Who do you want to fuck you?” Victor feels Leon stroke his stomach again, hand sliding from the top of the bulge to his groin before sliding back and repeating, previous stickiness spreading further with each motion.

It hurts, and he’s already so wet, soaked even, and trembling. Everything’s too much—the hands groping against his boobs and stomach, caressing, the mouth still sucking at his nipple, and the cocks sheathed in his pussy, hot and filling him entirely while his asshole leaks, spilling spit, pre-cum, and his own juices. He’s too warm—too desperate for it to continue and for it to finally finish.

“Please fu-fuck me, daddies! I want both of you to breed me!” He can already feel his face flushing at his own words, but he doesn’t want to wait any longer. He’s too agitated to wait. “Please breed me. I w-want you to impregnate me. Pl-please rape my cunt more!” Another moan leaves him when he feels their cocks begin to move again—pace quickening into a near-frenzy—as he himself begins to bounce, motions equally frantic if a bit impeded by their current position. “Please breed your little girl and fuck her like a whore!”

Victor isn’t quite sure when Leon’s hand leaves his wrists or when it comes to rest on his boob, supple flesh bouncing along with each thrust, but he doesn’t pay it much mind, not with everything else. He only finds himself shifting, angling himself, in an attempt to force them both deeper as his own hands move to cling at Piers’s shirt, nails digging harshly into fabric and the flesh underneath as teeth clamp firmly around his tit—mouth still sucking and tongue still swirling around the swollen, red teat.

Unlike before, there is a semblance of unity in their motions—cocks rutting into his pussy and against his cervix roughly, thrusts a mix of shallow and deep, and always at least one buried entirely inside inside him.

“So excited—wasn’t I right?” Leon squeezes his tit again. “You’re begging—already a cockwhore and an onahole made just for us. You’re enjoying yourself so much after all, aren’t you? But little girls should always be happy to see their daddies and happy to be fucked and used and raped by them, don’t you think? Aren’t you happy to be our little girlcow, our little cumdump? Can you show us your cute moo again too?”

Victor doesn’t reply, not until Leon squeezes again, fingers pressing roughly into the skin and bruising.

“Y-yes, l-love”—another scream and another fresh stream of tears as a particularly violent thrust meets his womb—“I love being your girlcow!” Leon twists his nipple, and Victor screams again. “I love b-being your c-cumdump! Pl-please, daddies, r-rape my cunt and womb and f-fill me up! Breed me like livestock! Pl-please!”

Hands play with his breasts as Piers’s grip tighten in his hair, jerking his head forward, and Victor screams, pained, as he feels their cocks bury themselves once more in his pussy, tips grinding against his womb and cumming, before another spasm overtakes him, pussy clenching around their still rutting cocks and milking them in another squirting orgasm.

When they eventually withdraw, Victor whimpers—cum, spit, and pussy juice spilling from his now gaping, painfully empty, cunt and noise disrupting the near-silence of the room alongside their own breathlessness.

Piers’s hand combs through his hair again, patting gently, before settling in his hair once more as he feels lips, Leon’s, press lightly against his neck.

“Doin’ okay, Victor?” Piers asks, fingers still combing slowly through his hair. “You got pretty excited there at the end.”

“Y-yeah.” He feels Leon lift his lips from his neck. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Leon shifts slightly, chin settling lightly on Victor’s shoulder and hand moving to hold his, fingers threading. “Was it everything you wanted? I mean, it wasn’t too much, right? Not too weird or anything?”

“No.” Victor shakes his head. “It was fine—great even. It’s just…” He pauses. “I-I-never mind.”

Another stroke through his hair, fingertips softly massaging the scalp. “Really, it’s fine. What’s botherin’ you? Were we too rough?”

“No, that’s not it.” Victor hesitates again. “It’s just…I really like you both.”

Neither of his partners reply, but he feels the grip on his hand tighten lightly and the fingers in his hair still, both more for reassurance than anything else. He knows that for certain. The soft inquisitiveness in Piers’s eyes and the slight movement on his shoulder, hair tickling his cheek now as Leon tilts his head, are enough to know that.

“I just…I just don’t want to come off too strong, but I don’t mind...” Victor trails off again before continuing, “I don’t mind being pregnant in the future if we’re still together.” Another pause before Victor hastily adds, “I mean, I hope we’re all still together. I want to be I mean.”

Victor flushes, overly awkward, before he feels another pat on his head again, similarly gentle as before. “You don’t have to keep goin’. Really, we get your meanin’. It’s sweet.”

Victor expects a “but” or perhaps some other stipulation then, but it doesn’t come, not entirely anyhow. Instead, Piers only pats his head again.

“I hope we stay together too—I want to—but,” he pauses, “dunno if you want to promise children this early though. You know, in case, you change your mind.”

Victor shakes his head. “No, I won’t. I like how I look.”

“If that’s what you want,” Leon says. “It’s your decision. Just know we’re here for you.”

Another shift, and Victor finds himself pressed against Leon’s chest, motion careful and lacking in the aggression of earlier. “Still, we have about ten hours left before everyone shows up since they’re supposed to be staying with Sonia tonight. We can probably wait a bit before we start cleaning up.”

Piers snorts. “Eight you mean. You know your brother’s gonna show up ‘bout two hours too early. He always does whenever you’re involved. That’s how we almost got caught last time because you wanted to try spitroastin’ in your office.” Piers frowns slightly before turning to look at Victor. “Though, we need to fix you up first though before anythin’ else. There should be some ointment and bandages in the bathroom cabinet, right?”

“Mm-hmm.” Victor feels himself lifted up, carefully scooped into Leon’s arms before he stands. “I can do it and draw the bath too if you want to make dinner afterwards tonight.”

Piers nods. “That fine with you too, Victor?”

It isn’t a particularly hard decision to agree to—Leon’s cooking abilities are atrocious, and it isn’t like Piers wouldn’t join them for a bath—but he likes being asked. He likes being cared for.

He likes being their lover, their little boy.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very self-indulgent fic for me honestly, but I have never written a fanfic that wasn't solely catered to my tastes. (´・ω・｀)
> 
> Hmm though...I always have a difficult time being "rougher" with canon characters for whatever reason. I can do it easily enough with my original characters and worlds, but when I touch canon characters, my prose always goes "softer" for some reason. I'll get through the block eventually...hopefully...
> 
> At least I got to cross off a bunch of tags for my AO3 account. I like to collect tags so...
> 
> I had to cut some stuff though like the vaginal fisting, watersports, licking through panties, the piss blowjob, and spanking alongside some of the dirty talk though...oh well, maybe one day...I also had to cut some of the post-sex scenes to (most of them actually) because I wanted something that wasn't irony-poisoned or overly melancholic. I really wish I could have kept the scene where Piers brushes Victor's teeth though...ah...at least the headpats stayed...that's like 20% of the reason this fic exists alongside just general self-indulgence...
> 
> Though, I do like to think trans!Victor would be rather well endowed when he grows up tbh—larger chest and small frame and height and all that. The ending’s also a bit more sentimental than I planned, but honestly, I wanted something softer than my usual fare which is a bit ironic considering what this fic has. I just like to think Victor’s awkward enough to broach that subject after everything before. He’s young too, so it’s not like he has a “filter” while the other two are too...shmoopy, sincere and adoring even, and I didn’t want something irony-poisoned in this.
> 
> Though the Raihan/Victor fic I'm working on is proceeding at a glacial pace...unfortunate...the tribbing trans!Piers/trans!Victor/Leon fic or the age swap one might actually appear before it...ah...


End file.
